Child of Humanity
by shakespeareia
Summary: They believed the Seventh Model to be lost - destroyed by another's spite and jealousy. Yet perhaps his "destruction" was only a part of God's plan... And when they find their lost child, God's creation, with no knowledge of his identity or future path, his brothers and sisters must show him the light...
1. Chapter 1

_Pain shot through the boy's skull, a ringing in his ears becoming a pounding, and finally the familiar beep…beep…beep of hospital machines. _

_Just like always._

_And then, the normal sensation of warm, female hands grasping his own, those same hands smoothing his hair…_

"_Lee… Oh Gods, Lee honey, I'm so sorry…"_

_**Too late, mommy.**_

_He'd always wanted to say that, every time he or Zak ended up lying here, with her crying over them, like __**she**__ was the victim…_

_**Too late.**_

_Beep…beep…beep…_

Something snapped him back to consciousness –probably the beeping noises the repair machinery always made.

Lee tossed his head for a second, trying to keep his mind clear. That was… the fifth time this had happened that week? Something had to give… and Cottle's brain drugs were out of the question. He'd rather be in the air then grounded for flying wasted…

_Two little boys huddled behind a chrome trash can, one slightly smaller than the other, clutching at his brother's shirt like a security blanket._

_He could see the tears on their faces… He could still remember the wet warmth of Zak's face on his back, his small body shaking with sobs and raw fear…_

_Lee had only been eight years old, but it all seemed so… wrong, even to a child._

_He swallowed hard, watching the boys cower back, choking on their screams as an Ambrosia bottle broke on the kitchen counter above their heads, obscenities hurling from her mouth like the shards of glass spilling in every direction… A blender was torn from the wall socket and hurled randomly, barely missing Zak's head…_

His eyes snapped open – the cockpit? What-

"Apollo! You've picked up two more! Apollo, do you read? Apollo, _four_ raiders bearing inbound –"

"Kara?"

How the frak-

" Frak it, Apollo, you're covered in toasters! Get out of there! Apollo! _LEE!_"

Lords, what the frak was happening?

Somehow, Lee managed to force military instinct past sheer mind-numbing panic, and glanced at the control board… Blue eyes narrowed.

"Starbuck, I have zero DRADIS contact… Starbuck, do you read? Kara?"

Static…

_He could still smell the disinfectant chemicals, hear the machines with their constant infernal buzzing, and __**her**__…_

_She was always there with one or both of them after things went too far, feeding them ice chips and holding their hands, telling them how sorry she was…_

_Though that would stop… one day, sooner than later, those boys would be back in this place, and she wouldn't bother to put on a show…_

_He could feel the burn behind his eyes… after eight years, he was still crying over it?_

"_**Why, Mom?"**_

His eyelids dragged open sluggishly, the image of his own bruised, bloodied face still burned into his line of sight…

"K-Kara…"

**"We're here."**

He blinked.

"What-"

**"Let go. We'll catch you. We promise."**

"Who're-"

He was shaking inside the flight suit, could feel his jaw trembling…

"N-no…"

"**You were confused, and frightened. But we're here for you." **

"N-no, I - " He swallowed hard, flailing for a grip on reality that seemed to be slipping farther and farther into oblivion…

"**You don't have to be afraid anymore. Let us embrace you."**

"Lords of Kobol –!"

He was sobbing now.

" – Le – Let us walk the path of righteousness and li – lift our f-faces unto your goodness – "

**"Come to us."**

"H-Help us turn away from th-the calls of the wicked and sh-show us the knowledge of your certain salvation – L-Lords of Kobol, hear me-!"

_**"We love you, Lee. And we always will."**_

He barely felt the scream, as it ripped past his lungs- there was only a burst of Hellish heat, an agonizing tearing sensation, and –

Bright white light flashed through his eyes, and all he could see was the smiling, innocent face of a young boy, reaching for his only family…

"_GNNGHHH! _Guh – huh-huh-huh…"

**"Shhh… shhh…"**

He seemed to be floating naked in some kind of liquid – not quite water, but not soap… it coated him like a second skin… it was soothing…

He was gasping for a breath, noting something sweet in his mouth… sickeningly sweet…

**"Just breathe through it…"**

** "The first time is always the hardest…"**

The organ in his chest was pounding manically, as though afraid for it's life… He tried to move, and found his wrists shackled…

**"We're right here with you, Lee."**

** "And we'll never leave you."**

Trembling, he lifted his head – and found himself staring into the blue eyes of D'Anna Biers.

"NO! GODS, NOOO!"

**A.N.- Tbc? Perhaps. I have some more ideas for this… to flesh it out a bit. But what do you think? Yes, I know it is a bit of a hodge-podge of at least three episodes, and probably others I included subconsciously, but after reading the (now inactive) Lee-Is-A-Cylon Challenge page on SciFiBuzz, I was inspired.**

**Your thoughts please - Box it or continue? **


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. – Sorry about some of the spelling and grammatical errors in chapter one, they'll be fixed at the first opportunity. Also, because I forgot earlier (drumroll please…) Disclaimer – I neither own nor am making any profit from this; I just find it fun – for some weird, sick reason. **

**Oh, and in case you're curious, here's a list of the episodes that inspired this – **

**Kobol's Last Gleaming II – S1E13**

**The Farm (potentially)- S2E5**

**Sacrifice – S2E16**

**Downloaded – S2E18**

**A Measure Of Salvation – S3E7**

**A Day In The Life – S3E15**

**Maelstrom – S3E17**

**And one more thing – then I'll shut up, I swear – I started writing this **_**before**_** I finished the last season, so if it doesn't completely fly with the canon ending, I apologize. And now…**

"NO! LEE! NOOO!"

Tears seeped from Kara's blue eyes as she stared at the last remaining bit of wreckage, hovering in empty space, a few sparks of leftover energy illuminating the sky…

Static crackled over her communicator.

"Starbuck! Report!"

The Old Man sounded as though someone had knocked his guts out – She wondered fleetingly why he'd even had to ask, she had screamed it to the whole ship;

Lee was -

Kara gulped back her tears and dredged the remains of a voice from somewhere in her throat.

"He's gone." She whispered dully. "He's… gone."

The other side of the line was silent for a few moments, and something began to sting in her chest at the thought of what must be taking place in the CIC…

"Hold your position- We're sending the Raptors –"

"There's no point, Admiral!" She whispered into the comm.

"They blew him right out of the frakking sky…"

More silence, and then William Adama's voice cut through the line like steel.

"Hold your position. That's an order."

She gulped, and shook her head instinctually.

"Yes, Sir."

Life Station had the atmosphere of a morgue – funny, Kara thought to herself, that was it's primary function these days.

No. Not funny really.

The nurse finished testing her for shock, draped a pale blue medical blanket over her shoulders, and left her sitting behind the curtain, alone with her thoughts.

Why? Gods _damn it_, why?

She could feel her lip quivering, and forced the tears back into her eyes.

_Momma wouldn't like you crying_…

The dark blue of a uniform caught her eye, and though she knew she ought to have risen to attention, she simply couldn't force her limbs to move.

"You saw it?"

The Admiral had the voice of a man who had dragged himself through miles and miles of dry desert, and had long since stopped dreaming of water.

Kara couldn't look at him. She nodded.

"How?"

Her throat closed up at the hour-old memories.

"I counted about… thirteen raiders. Tearing us to pieces, like normal. And then…"

His weathered hand closed firmly on her shoulder.

"Then they all… they closed in on him like dogs to a piece of meat. I've never…"

"No. Neither have I. Neither has anyone."

His grip didn't slacken, and she could feel her chin beginning to tremble yet again.

"Did he suffer?"

That made her stop short.

"He – uh…" A hard swallow did nothing to relieve the lump in her throat.

"Just the truth, lieutenant."

Fine then.

"They… they had him locked in, there was no frakking way he could fly loose. Then they all pulled back a few feet and… and all fired…" Her voice broke.

Adama was silent for nearly a full minute, his hand still closed on her shoulder.

"Are you telling me," he growled quietly, in a tone she'd not heard since she admitted the truth about Zak. That tone promised death.

"That those _frakking_ machines imprisoned my son in his own ship, heard him praying for mercy, and then burned him alive?"

Kara had no words, for once in her life. No snarky comment. No smart-ass remark.

His hand left her shoulder, and as he walked out of the medical bay, she couldn't help but notice that for the first time, he really looked like an old man…

Six's only reaction was an ecstatic smile, her elegant fingers smoothing down dark hair.

"He's beautiful…" she murmured to the Three beside her, as she replaced the empty IV bag with a new chemical mix. It was a pity about the sedatives, but they couldn't have him loose aboard the ship in his condition.

"Ravishing." The other Model agreed quietly, and earnestly.

One of the Twos reached across the width of the couch, and boldly ran a finger across a firm jaw.

"Stronger than all their weak, fragile race –"

"A warrior," muttered a Four. "Born to lead…"

Suddenly Three released an urgent gasp, a wondering smile spreading across her features.

"Look!"

There were quiet murmurs and sounds of shock from every model surrounding the couch, as eyelids fluttered open, eyes blue as the Caprican sky gleaming with an almost childish bewilderment at the faces surrounding him – some strange, some familiar…

A soft, sighing laugh escaped the Six's sensual lips as she caressed his hair.

"Truly a gift from God…"

**A.N. – Sooo? A little feedback goes a long way… **


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. – Thanks to all who reviewed! The support was awesome – with particular regards to ****chachaam****. I can't tell you how useful that kind of feedback is!**

**I've reposted the first two chapters, after some fix-ups. They should read a bit better now, and make more logical sense.**

**As to the length of the chapters – the ultimate length of this story is still under question, so some chapters might be longer or shorter than others - it'll depend on a lot of factors.**

Kara hated funerals.

A priestchantingoveran empty helmet, a whiff of incense, and finally the ship's cannons discharging empty shot into space.

Dead was dead.

Her arm felt stiff during the salute.

She couldn't make herself follow the other pilots to the repast afterward. Booze wasn't what she needed – not just yet.

The memorial corridor was hauntingly quiet, thousands of photographs staring back at her, specters from another lifetime.

Her palms were sweating as she pulled the picture from her back pocket…

He looked the dutiful soldier, as always – flight-suit gleaming, the helmet perfectly angled under one arm, back flush to a polished Viper…

She hated that picture.

With trembling fingers, she gingerly pressed a tack through the film, straightening a corner by a fraction of an inch.

She clenched her lips, her hands twisting behind her back as she sucked in a deep breath…

This was when she was supposed to say something deep and meaningful – this was supposed to be goodbye…

"I…"

It died in her throat, and her eyes slammed shut.

"Frak!"

The sounds of human sobbing bounced off the metal walls, as Kara dug her fingernails into the alloy, skin scraping painfully against steel as she crumpled to her knees.

Tears soaked her face.

"Frak, frak, _frak_!"

Her forehead struck the wall repeatedly. The pain was blinding.

"**Accept it.**" D'Anna murmured gently, her hands cradling his head in a soothing, almost maternal fashion.

"**Take the first step, and it will all become much easier.**"

Lee wanted to smash her skull in.

The room felt hot, and he distantly realized that he was coated in sweat. D'Anna seemed to notice as well, and frowned. Her fingers brushed his forehead.

A red beam pulsed steadily behind her head, and he latched his eyes onto it – like locking in on a target. Yeah, it was just another run in the bird – just another run. Another run. Another run…

"I'm –"

"**Shhh…**" She hushed, stroking his lips.

"**We'll get through this together…**"

Her face was calm, comforting… As though the expression had been designed with nothing but a few entered keywords.

Mechanical.

His fist shot out, and she was sprawled on the gleaming black floor, motionless, bright scarlet splattered across her white coatdress…

A sobbing breath escaped his throat.

"I'm not a cylon. I was born in Caprica City, at 0-400 in the morning. My parents were William and Carolanne Adama. I'm twenty-nine years old…"

Tigh stood like a ramrod at the center of the Admiral's quarters, staring at the shambles.

A few empty liquor bottles were scattered around - a few more had been smashed on shelves or the desk. A dress-uniform jacket was slung carelessly over a chair. The desk was a mess of paperwork, and on the floor by the sofa were the crumpled remains of a model ship.

The room was deserted.

"Gods damn it, Bill." He muttered under his breath, hardly able to contain his own shock at the scene. Bill was the one who could deal with grief, the one who wouldn't lock himself into his quarters and wallow in booze and –

Something crinkled under his heel.

At first glance, it looked like one of many sheets of rumpled paper lying all over the cabin – then his eye caught a flash of color. Red.

The paper had started to yellow, and the colors had faded, but there was no way to mistake the uneven shading, the crooked lines – the artistic hand of a small child.

Saul's eyes went wide.

Someone had written – in an adult hand, in pen, in the lower corner –

_L. Adama – Maimakterion 6__th__, 4567._

It took only a quick glance around the room to realize that the floor was carpeted with drawings, all in the same style, more than likely by the same artist…

"Frak me…"

"_Lords of Kobol –! Le – Let us walk the path of righteousness and li – lift our f-faces unto your goodness – H-Help us turn away from th-the calls of the wicked and sh-show us the knowledge of your certain salvation – L-Lords of Kobol, hear me-!"_

A flash. A scream.

"_NO! LEE! NOOO!_"

The screen went blank.

Adama took another gulp of whiskey, grabbed the remote, and rewound the footage.

Eighty-six times now…

Three had hardly finished mopping the resurrection gel from her hair.

Stiletto heels clacked on metal as their strides took on urgency.

Six's beautiful face had the look of a terrified parent. Her jaw hung slightly.

"Did you provoke him?"

"I followed the standard sleeper procedure – he was showing all the usual signs of acute stress reaction."

The blonde groaned softly, something like disbelief coloring her tone.

"Say nothing to the others – the Fives are already beginning to question the theory, and if the Fours –"

Her voice died in her throat as the door swung open.

The crimson pool had an almost luminescent beauty as it spread across the glowing white floor – both models couldn't help but appreciate the image for a fraction of a second.

"GET SIMON!" The Six screamed as she threw herself to her knees beside his limp body, a white hand closing firmly over the flowing, red gash across his wrist…

His fingernails were stained crimson.

Three tried to stop her hands from trembling as she dialed the emergency code, her eyes drowning in the sight of Model Six kneeling in a pool of blood, sobbing into his dark hair as she fought to hold the life inside that precious body…

"All Models, code red. Model Four, Detention Bay Seven. Repeat, All Models, code red. Model Four, Detention Bay Seven."

**A.N. – So, the plot thickens just a little. The next few chapters should be rather… enlightening. **

**Btw, I've decided that since the Lords of Kobol are – in essence – the ancient Greek gods, I'm using the ancient Greek calendar as the standard time measurement for the colonies. Maimakterion would be May.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. – So, I finished Season 4 of BSG the other night, and was rather dissatisfied. What's the bet I could make my AU ending better?**

**The next few chapters may come a bit more slowly for a time, primarily due to an acute case of writer's block. Keep reviewing! Sometimes the responses you all give can provide me with ideas!**

**Oh, and this chapter might be kinda short – but I'll make up for it!**

D'Anna stroked his hand, crooning gently, her eyes following the red fluid gliding through a tube into the pale skin of his forearm.

He groaned unconsciously.

The transfusion machine sputtered to a standstill, the green light flickering briefly to red as a Four hovered his finger over the control panel.

"What's the trouble?"

"We've depleted our last blood reserve –"

She dropped his hand.

"That's ridiculous. We ought to have had–"

"Our bodies are programmed for automatic regeneration, should any injury occur." Six cut in, from across the room. "Additional medical supplies were not deemed…necessary…"

"By who?" D'Anna shot back curtly. "By vote? Or by the Ones?"

Simon and Six exchanged a look. She moistened her lips carefully.

"Cavil has not exercised any unlawful authority at any time."

"Speaking of which, has anyone bothered to inform him of recent… events?"

His eyes fixed pointedly on the man strapped to the screening table.

D'Anna glared at him icily. "No."

Lee couldn't remember a time when he'd felt this awful. That time he'd been shot in the chest by Kara was defiantly marked high on the list, but even that didn't come close to the light-headed nausea and migrainous agony ripping through his skull and belly. His left arm tingled slightly, and he tried to shift it, afraid it might have fallen asleep. Something moved under the skin, and he nearly heaved up his stomach…

Voices were floating overhead- indistinct, but still discernable. One was male, two were female…

Oh Gods –

Abruptly, the trauma of the past forty-eight hours was replaced by gut-wrenching fear and rage – if he let it, it could burn so strongly it almost cancelled out the sickness in his body.

These… machines had taken him, somehow, duplicated his body with their own frakked-up, tubular, slime-covered technology, and were now treating him like some sort of pet… Lords, this wasn't happening!

He caught the familiar sounds of a heart monitor, and realized that the blips were coming faster and faster… He had to calm down, they'd know he was conscious, and then who knew what they would do to him – was he a POW? A guinea pig?

The last thought finally forced his mind to snap.

One hand began fumbling desperately, feeling at the base of the straps, muscles straining, until the tip of a finger brushed a fastening. It was only a spiral lacing across his chest, it would be simple enough…

Sweat beading on his face and neck, Lee let his head fall back to the tabletop, nerves and adrenaline wreaking havoc on his brain…

_You're going to survive, _He berated himself._ You're going to survive, and get the frak out of here._

A phone buzzed.

Six punched the speak button with a little more force than was necessary.

"Medical Bay; report?"

A crackle of static, and an all too recognizable voice slithered through the grille.

"Come aboard?"

The tone was oily and left the blonde feeling sick to her stomach. A nervous glance at the others was all she could manage, before forcing her tongue to wrap around a logical sentence.

" Um – yes. Airlock three, open."

A telltale tremble under their feet…

"Thank you."

The line went dead.

She turned to the other models, horror and terror prevalent on her face.

Simon was the first to speak.

"He knows. Why come otherwise?"

"How could he? We eliminated all the models aboard before – "

Six groaned. "As if that move wasn't suspicious in itself."

"It was stupidity."

Struggling to keep her composure, D'Anna began to fiddle with the transparent fastenings on her coat.

"He won't know unless we tell him. Now, shall we go face the beast?"

Her heels clacked on the floor as she left the room, her companions following with skeptical expressions.

He realized he'd been holding his breath until they had left.

His fingers flew at the strap attachment, until the fiber parted with the metal and he could scramble free, ripping the tubal braid from his arm. Blood splashed over the gleaming white floor in a bright red puddle, dripping steadily from the cords.

He shook himself mentally - it didn't matter.

"Keep it together, Lee – Keep it together…"

What did they say at the training academy- find the energy source. Break it down. Distract them. Find a way out.

He scanned the walls for any breaks, seaming, ventilation grilles – even the toasters had to breathe…

His bare foot slid over something uneven, and he forced down a relieved laugh at the mesh tiles imbedded into the floor – almost imperceptibly.

Lucky the toaster doc had left a ton of his hardware- some prying with a scalpel freed several plates, leaving a space wide enough for him to slide through.

A smell like shit poured out from the hole in the floor. He sighed – if Kara had the guts to crawl through the internal organs of a raider, he could brave the innards of a base-ship – specifically the large intestine, by the smell of things.

He gingerly inserted a naked foot, and began feeling the inner walls – warm and slimy. Not a particularly comforting thought - A clank echoed behind his head.

His eyes closed slowly, as a centurion's clawed hand curled around the fabric of his tanks, only to fly open again involuntarily, accompanied by a cry of pain as the machine heaved him violently to his feet, shaking him like a puppy…

"**Very… resourceful, I'll grant him that**." Murmured an unctuous male voice. "**But that's hardly definitive proof**."

"**Human consciousness is non-regeneratable.**" Protested the sultry blonde at his shoulder. "**Can you offer an alternative explanation**?"

"**No.**" He shot back evenly. His grey eyes wandered down Lee's muscled body, and an odd look crossed his lined face – something between displeasure and grim satisfaction.

"**But I intend to extract one**."

**A.N. – Cavil's at large! Dunn Dunn DUUUNNN! Feed me feedback, it's what I live on – I'd particularly like your thoughts on this chapter, given what I've got planned for the next one.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. – Sorry for the wait! It took some time for the Writer's Block Bug to let go, and let the bunny bite! Anywaaay… **

**Just a quick warning – the next few chapters will contain some material that may be disturbing to some readers. There will be some physical torture - most of which was inspired by animal testing techniques – and most of it is fairly graphic. I don't know if it would condone an M rating, but we'll see; if you believe that it does, leave me a note on the review page. **

She couldn't sleep.

Her green eyes were reflected in the glass window, rimmed in red.

To be truthful, she hadn't slept in days.

She would try, the white silk enveloping her body, the soft, living hum of the engines a soothing relaxant – and yet her mind knew no rest whatsoever.

Fear was her life now. Fear for him.

D'Anna felt the dizziness overtake her for the fourth time, and leaned her head on the window. A centurion clanked over, prepared to offer assistance, yet she waved him off. She wasn't important now…

He wasn't even trying to sleep – the bunk didn't appear to have been touched in the three days the cell had contained him.

He was crawling along the floor, doubtlessly searching for a seam that could be broken, or any kind of escape… It was a futile search. After his last two attempts, Cavil was through taking chances. The cell was sealed, and lined with carbon steel.

Tears sprung to her exhausted eyes.

He may only be a human in his own mind, but he had not lost the resiliency so common to that parasitic race. After three days and two nights, he still believed in the possibility of freedom.

With no idea of what was to come.

The debates had gone on for hours, the Fives, Fours, and Eights finally siding with the Ones. Six had been startled at Simon's betrayal. D'Anna would have ripped his guts out through his mouth, had the action not been pointless.

"For cripes sakes, it won't kill him." Cavil had groaned when they protested yet again.

"If his cortex _is _artificial, he can be relocated to an observation lab – we merely need assurance that the humans have not developed a system of - "

"There is _no _possible way that a human would have access to the Resurrection codes." One of the Threes cut in icily.

"And if they did, what would be the use?"

Cavil gave her a tight-lipped smirk.

"Fine. If you prefer to hand over unlimited trust to a completely unknown model who just happens to download onto the primary base ship, I won't stop you."

D'Anna's face could have frozen regeneration gel.

"Need I remind you, _brother_, that his vessel was giving off large amounts of Sleeper distress signals? – "

"Easy enough to replicate by a skilled communications operator." Doral shot back.

"We're wasting precious time, Cavil- the humans could have completed four FTL jumps by now."

The One grimaced.

"Have the Fours prepare the medical bay. I want this… carefully monitored."

D'Anna narrowed her eyes and stormed from the CIC, beckoning two Centurions to flank her.

She had stood there, watching him for near to an hour.

Just watching.

She could have rescued him. She could have smuggled him off the base, there were plenty of raider shells that were operative.

But she couldn't let him go. Perhaps she was simply selfish. They were wired for any emotion, after all…

Cavil arrived minutes later, followed by eight Centurions. One was wheeling a transport cart.

"Open up." He told her smoothly. She had no choice.

He crawled to his feet the second they entered the cell, confusion marring his smooth face.

She could have wept. So innocent. Not knowing. Not understanding. Though he would, quite soon.

One of the drones knocked him to the floor on his belly, cuffed his wrists, and strapped a forceps gag to either side of his mouth. The skin stretched grotesquely. Another curled its claws around his legs, and helped heave him onto the metal surface.

Her false heart split.

In the past weeks she had seen many emotions cross his face. Puzzlement. Hatred. Anger, many times.

But raw terror was a new one.

He went pale as they tightened the restraints across his chest and legs, his eyes shooting to her own – pleadingly.

D'Anna steeled herself. God protected the righteous.

All would be well.

Kara knew they were watching her.

Whatever. She'd downed six kegs before.

Okay, maybe not in a straight row. But she'd done it.

A beer cap spun on its rim, coaxed by her fingers – it made a tinny sound, dancing across the tabletop.

She felt grimy, and was beginning to wonder if her stomach had simply declared a no-work strike.

The paper was still lying in front of her. A few beer stains had been added to the corners in the last hour, but the original drawing was still visible…

Red. _Lots_ of red. And more than a few shadowy monsters, their eyes glowing the color of blood. Here and there a kid's imagining of a Viper Mark II – But mostly, lots of red.

When she was little, she'd been drawing princesses and unicorns.

_Vive La Difference._

If Tigh had thought this would amuse her in any way, the drunk frak needed to get his brains out of his ass, and –

Kara's insides heaved, and she found herself running for the nearest head, a hand over her mouth.

The drawing still lay on the table.

He finally seemed to comprehend.

D'Anna had hardened herself to the noise – each quiet moan or whimper from between the metal forceps was quite… uninteresting. Hardly distressing.

She had almost convinced herself.

He started to wriggle in the restraints when a Four wheeled in a large piece of machinery – a glorified tube-hooked-to-a-bucket.

Dark-skinned hands strapped the muzzle to his face, the table tipping upward slightly – "Don't need him choking." Cavil muttered- and a strong grip forced the tube down his throat. He gagged.

"Trust me- you'll want food now." The One continued, in that well-greased tone of his.

"It might be a while before you taste anything again."

His beautiful eyes were wide and wet – D'Anna wanted desperately to touch him, to soothe and protect…

A pointless hope.

The machinery emitted an engine-like hum, and tan-colored gel shot through the tube on a quick route to his innards.

She could see his throat muscles working frantically… It was a common enough technique, she had used it plenty of times herself - so why should it affect her now?

His stomach muscles would be cramping, the shame and agony would be eating him alive – And somehow, Cylon Model Three felt pity.

God help them all.


End file.
